Sep 2018
The void
Or the scowl.
Are you sure you know which you’d pick.
When the right hand that feeds you,
Succulent wisdom,
While the left hand kills the next breed.
You see the void on sundays,
in time that is only passing seconds.
in moments where you scream silently.
When precious life is the cold bone you hold.
Down the path you walk, you long to be led.
Submission
Is the game for so long,
Catch a ball, avoid a fall
Until you chase it when rolls
Off the edge
And you follow it in faith
Rather than in fear
Keeping your white collar near.
Or the scowl.
Are you sure you know which you’d pick.
When the right hand that feeds you,
Succulent wisdom,
While the left hand kills the next breed.
You see the void on sundays,
in time that is only passing seconds.
in moments where you scream silently.
When precious life is the cold bone you hold.
Down the path you walk, you long to be led.
Submission
Is the game for so long,
Catch a ball, avoid a fall
Until you chase it when rolls
Off the edge
And you follow it in faith
Rather than in fear
Keeping your white collar near.
Please comment what you think this one can be about cuz I barely know myself, it is quite a collage of ideas. A mix of the Philosophical, the *****, the fascist and the boringly bleak.
Note: the bit about a dog chasing a ball off a cliff is something my Dad actually saw, at beach head.
'White collar' does not refer to class, but a Vicar's collar.
Note: the bit about a dog chasing a ball off a cliff is something my Dad actually saw, at beach head.
'White collar' does not refer to class, but a Vicar's collar.
